


They come and they go

by Spectre_Anon



Series: Mirror Image [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 08:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectre_Anon/pseuds/Spectre_Anon
Summary: Hank was never quite sure when Connor became a permanent fixture of the household. It just kind of... happened. And he supposed... he supposed, in the same way, he was never sure when RK900 became more than an inconvenient guest.





	They come and they go

Hank was never quite sure when Connor became a permanent fixture of the household. It just kind of... happened. Wasn't like he'd really set out with it in mind, but what was he supposed to say when they embraced the morning after the revolution, and Connor told him he didn't know where to go next? Tell him to fuck off back to Markus? Nah, not on his life...

A roof to stay under was the least he owed the android. So he'd told him he was welcome to stay as long as he needed, and Connor had eventually taken him up on just that. Hank didn't think either of them really expected it to be forever.

For the first few days Connor was forever apologizing and promising to be out of his hair as soon as possible, a flurry of activity as he tried to clean or cook or do whatever he could to repay Hank, seemingly desperate to please. But as Hank repeatedly reassured him, or just flat out told him to 'relax for fuck's sake', he appeared to get the message.

He spent less time fussing over chores and more time lavishing attention on Sumo. More time walking outside in the crisp winter air, or questioning Hank on the finer points of emotions and human behavior. Or sharing whatever obscure facts he'd dug up most recently – mostly about fish, and Hank couldn't understand it but he guessed it was good the kid had an interest in something.

And the longer he stayed, the more normal it felt. The house just didn't seem as empty with him there, and it was... good, Hank supposed. He'd honestly forgotten how hollow the place was without someone else in it. The silence had become too familiar, sinking somewhere into his bones in a way he never had the strength to fight. On some levels he'd probably thought he deserved it.

But Connor filled the void in a manner a dog never could. There was something comforting about coming home and having something other than his own thoughts for company.

It was having someone to sit with on the couch and watch late night TV with. It was waking up in the morning and finding coffee waiting for him because someone actually cared. It was the way Connor shook him from his own troubled mind with a question, or a new piece of information he was eager to share, eager because somehow what Hank thought mattered. It was the curious expression that overtook him when Hank played his old Jazz records that he hadn't touched in years. It was watching him and Sumo play fetch in the yard. It was... the warm feeling that ran through him at the sight...

And as time passed, Connor mentioned leaving less and less, and Hank mentioned it not at all. One way or another, he couldn't imagine home without him, and more importantly he didn't want to.

And he supposed... he supposed, in the same way, he was never sure when RK900 became more than an inconvenient guest.

He'd never wanted the thing. But Connor had those big, brown, puppy-dog eyes, and one imploring look and Hank was putty in his hands. Damn android probably knew it – part of his original function was as a negotiator after all.

It didn't matter that they owed the other android nothing, that it was simply another awakened machine like the ones Connor had lead in the uprising not so long ago. It had Connor's face, and for whatever stupid reason Connor seemed to consider the grounds for some kind of attachment.

Android models typically had thousands of others with their exact same face though, a perfect copy – and that was a trip and a half – but it was with a kind of resignation that Hank decided it just wasn't worth arguing about.

Maybe Connor felt differently because he was supposed to be a unique model, had never expected to find another with his own likeness. Maybe it was part of being a deviant, in seeing a brother when he would have previously only seen a replacement. How was Hank supposed to tell him he shouldn't care? That those feelings were invalid?

So as little sense as it made, he'd ended up bringing two android home that day, with the promise that RK900 could stick around until he figured out what the hell he wanted to do.

At least they weren't perfectly identical, Hank would have found that a nightmare. The RK900 had piercing grey-blue eyes in place of Connor's soft brown ones, and a resting face that seemed just a little more stern, a little colder, as if they'd tried to sharpen the edges of him into something more fearsome. He was a scant inch or two taller as well – something only noticeable when the two of them stood side by side – but the tiny differences were reassuring, even if they had the exact same freckles and other carefully designed imperfections on their synthetic skin. Didn't mean it still wasn't unsettling.

Of course, the very first thing RK900 said as they walked through the front door and Sumo came bounding up to greet them was, “I like dogs.”

Hank was struck immediately by the familiarity of it, and how stupid the whole thing was. Connor had told him exactly the same thing. Thinking about it, Connor had probably never even met a dog at the time he'd told him.

Why the fuck did Cyberlife decide that was an important response to program? Maybe it made them seem more human, more relatable. But whatever Connor had been pre-programmed to say, he knew for a fact the way the kid fussed over the St. Bernard was not an act, and there was _no way_ Cyberlife would have bothered to program such affection for a creature that was completely unrelated to his original function. Maybe Connor had only told him he liked dogs because that was what his coding said, but he sure as hell liked them now.

So Hank had just shrugged. “Yeah, I'm sure he likes you too.”

With two androids fawning over him Sumo would be having the time of his life.

Hank reheated leftovers for a quick dinner while RK900 explored his new surroundings with Connor at his heels, no doubt scanning every bit of junk Hank had left lying around and stitching together a very thorough file on what kind of a man he was. Whatever his discoveries, Hank had no interest in finding out. He ate methodically, and went to bed early for once in his life, too tired to deal with any this shit.

 

* * *

 

When he dragged himself up the next day, the two of them were sitting on the couch. They turned in perfect synchrony as he paced into the kitchen, following his movements.

“I swear if you two start speaking at the same time you can both leave,” he muttered, stuffing bread in the toaster and grabbing the coffee jar down from the cupboard since Connor evidently hadn't made any.

“He's not serious, that's just the lieutenants equivalent of humor,” Connor reassured his doppelganger, and Hank snorted. It filled him with a small amount of pride that the android could recognize such things these days, but he wasn't about to admit it.

“RK900 decided on a name last night,” Connor informed him.

Hank turned, leaning back against the kitchen counter as he inspected the pair of them. “Oh, is that so? Let’s hear it then.”

Connor looked across at the RK900 encouragingly. The other android looked strangely uncertain. It glanced down at the ground for a moment before it lifted its gaze to meet Hank's own.

“My name is Ethan.”

Hank nodded. “Alright then. Ethan it is.”

His approval seemed to gain the right response, a tension he hadn't even noticed before left the androids shoulders, and Connor smiled. Cautiously, Ethan attempted to mimic the expression, but it didn't quite sit right on his face. Probably needed some practice, god knew Connor's smiles had been creepy when they'd first met.

If Connor was only a few months old, his brother could only be a few days... shit, android ages were impossible to get his head around.

They stepped out of production fully formed and programmed with all the knowledge and skills necessary for their intended task, supercomputers with humanoid bodies, but for all their processing power they lacked one of the most important pieces of development – experience.

Watching Connor grow in the time they'd spent together had been fascinating, and Hank supposed he shouldn't be too harsh on Ethan if the kid was still stiff as a broom.

“You'll be wanting some new clothes, right? Get rid of that Cyberlife uniform?” he asked, grabbing a plate for his toast.

“It would be preferable,” Ethan agreed.

Naturally he picked out a plain button up shirt and a pair of dark trousers, androids had no imagination... even Connor had let him down on that front, but Hank supposed it took time to develop any kind of fashion sense. People would probably tell Hank he _still_ hadn't developed any fashion sense despite his own years.

It was better than the stark white uniform Cyberlife had dressed him in though. Ethan looked a little more human without the high collar or the serial number emblazoned on his chest, a little more like a person and less like a product.

If someone had told him he'd be spending his spare time clothes shopping with a pair of android twins he'd have laughed them off, yet here he was... fate was funny sometimes.

Hank considered his duty done. Ethan could have his dignity as a person and not have to go waltzing around bearing Cyberlife's name printed across his jacket, and he had a roof to stay under until he figured things out, and that was all Hank could be expected to offer.

Ethan was Connor's problem. Connor's problem because he looked at the other android with a protectiveness that made no damn sense, because he saw a connection between them because Cyberlife had printed them the same dorky looking face, because he felt a loyalty... but Hank couldn't be expected to feel the same.

Connor had earned his place in Hank's heart. Ethan was just another android. Just another person. He could stay because Hank couldn't tell Connor it was silly and kick the other android to the curb, but he was just a guest. A guest with a weirdly familiar face, but he wasn't Connor. Hank tried his hardest to remind himself of that.

As the days and weeks bled into one another, a new rhythm slowly began to settle. It was strange, having another body in the house, but the longer it had been the more normal it began to feel.

Ethan began to develop his own mannerisms.

He liked the snow, while Connor found it brought him unpleasant memories. He had no coin to fiddle with, but he often tapped his fingers against his leg in a beat only he could follow, as if the habit was soothing. His expressions were never as soft or openly inquisitive as Connor's could be. His fascination with the world seemed far more analytical despite his deviancy, but thankfully he asked far less 'personal questions'. After considerable research he decided he quite liked synth wave music, though he claimed that the irregular tempo of Hank's jazz could be stimulating. He preferred to walk Sumo in the evenings rather than the mornings.

It became easier to think of him as his own individual, not simply Connor's duplicate. It became harder to remember he wasn't meant to stay.

Something about him just slipped into place like another jigsaw piece he hadn't known was missing.

He began finding post-it notes left for him because Ethan had discovered the ones Hank stuck on the bathroom mirror and seemed to consider it the perfect way to be passive aggressive, or on rare occasions, surprisingly thoughtful. His record stash was slowly expanded, because apparently he was 'missing' specific albums. It became common place now to see Connor talking over case files with his double, the pair of them thoroughly engrossed.

Hank didn't bother telling Connor that case files were supposed to be confidential, he was sure the kid knew. Why kick up a fuss? With two supercomputers on the job, cases practically solved themselves...

And now, when he watched the yard, it wasn't just Connor tossing a ball, it was him and Ethan throwing it between them and Sumo running madly from one to the other, barking with excitement. It felt... more complete somehow.

When he got up in the night for a glass of water, he'd sometimes find the two of them on the couch in stasis.

They didn't need to do it sitting down. In fact, Connor had first done it standing up, but Hank had kindly informed him that finding him lurking in a dark corner with the lights off was likely to give him a heart attack.

Hank wasn't sure what stasis was like. Connor had told him it gave them a chance to log data from the previous day, and file and discard as necessary, as well as checking their programing for errors or anomalies and performing basic maintenance. That was just a bunch of tech nonsense though. Didn't explain what it was like.

They didn't dream. It wasn't sleep. But, Connor eventually conceded, it was... peaceful. Their awareness of the outside world was tuned down, just enough to pick up on important cues in the event they needed to be brought back online before they were finished.

They were no longer hyper aware of every detail in their surroundings, no longer calculating probabilities or cross-referencing data, simply free to tidy up their systems at their leisure without outside complications to divert their processing power to. It wasn't sleep, but maybe for a computer it was close enough.

Hank never said it, but he thought that seeing the two of them sitting side by side seemed a little less lonely than just Connor, a solitary figure in the dark. Maybe that was just a human thing. Maybe that was just him projecting. Damned if he was going to ask them.

 

* * *

 

One lazy Sunday afternoon, Hank decided it was time to clean out the garage. It had probably been time to do that for a long while. There was a lot of stuff in there he hadn't wanted to look at, hadn't wanted touch, but he was feeling pragmatic and for once the idea didn't seem quite so painful. So he rolled up his sleeves and got to work, sorting out piles of things to toss and other pieces he carefully boxed up again, not yet ready to part with.

In the process he came across a stack of dusty board games. He brought them out into the lounge and set them on the table, arms folded as he tried to figure out what on earth he was thinking.

When Ethan wandered in minutes later, his attention immediately fixed itself upon the pile of board games. His gaze lifted to Hank's, inquiringly.

“Go get Connor, I've got something to show you two,” he said.

So when the pair of them were present Hank sat them down, and introduced them to the joys of Cluedo, Guess Who, Monopoly and Trivial pursuit. As far as Hank remembered that was what you did on lazy Sunday afternoons with your family... not that family was really the right word for what he had going here, but it was something. And those two deserved to spend time sitting down and playing pointless games at the table while the world outside was grey, and rain pattered against the windows in a steady drone. That was an experience everyone deserved.

They thrashed him, of course.

“How are you doing this? You cheating?” Hank asked after his fifth defeat. “You sure you've never played this shit before?”

“It's simply a matter of calculating probabilities and selecting the decision with the highest likelihood of success,” Connor told him, almost sounding offended.

“Ah, so you _are_ cheating,” Hank said. “Using those big robo brains of yours. Can't you like, turn them off for a minute, give an old man a chance?”

“You want us to intentionally inhibit our processing power so we are incapable of normal functions? To increase your chance of winning a game?” Ethan asked, raising one eyebrow.

Yeah, sounded kind of fucked up when he put it like that. Hank sighed, scratching at his beard.

“Would it kill you to go easy on me?”

“I believe you are being what my database would refer to as a 'sore loser',” Ethan informed him pleasantly, and Hank swore he caught a faint smug twitch to the androids lips. No way in hell he wasn't enjoying this.

“Right, that does it,” Hank said, standing up and pushing the remnants of their game of Monopoly aside. He rummaged through the pile he'd brought in from the garage, eventually finding what he was looking for and slapping it down on the table.

“Snakes and ladders,” he said with satisfaction, “no way either of you are pulling any supercomputer bullshit on that.”

The androids’ LED's flickered yellow momentarily before returning to blue, no doubt them downloading the rules.

Ethan was frowning. “This is based entirely on dice roles, pure chance, there is no way to actively affect one’s chances of victory. I don't understand the purpose of the game.”

“The purpose is it's fucking fun. Now shut up and get ready to taste defeat.”

Hank ended up losing again. Why fate had decided to pull the middle finger to him he didn't know, but he could tell Connor was trying not to laugh and Ethan looked very pleased with himself, and screw it... maybe he should be worried about his dignity, but he was sitting down and playing snakes and ladders on a Sunday afternoon and he'd never thought he'd be doing that again...

It wasn't all smooth sailing of course. Even from the beginning Ethan carried with him a restlessness that Connor didn't share.

Maybe that was to be expected. Both of them were state of the art prototypes, designed with a ludicrous amount of processing power and abilities far beyond the standard home models, but while Connor had been reinstated as a full member of the DPD, Ethan had no such affiliation.

While Hank and his partner drove off to work, Ethan stayed at home to entertain himself. At first it didn't seem to be a problem, he had Sumo for company and sometimes he went out for a walk, but eventually that just didn't seem to be enough.

Sometimes he'd disappear for long periods of time, and Hank would say nothing of course because it wasn't like he _cared_ , but as the hours dragged by he couldn't help but glance at Connor. The android would pick up on what he wanted to ask somehow, and his LED would flicker, before Connor would assure him that Ethan was fine, and sometimes even give an estimation of how long until he returned. And he was always fine. He always was. But Hank couldn't help the doubt that stirred somewhere deep inside him every time.

Worse though were those occasions when he came home to find the place in a disarray, things strewn around Ethan in a circle as he tried to solve some pointless problem for the sake of it – like what the perfect cup of coffee actually _was_ , or the model ingredients for the best popular television drama, or how much hair Sumo shed in an average day, or the likelihood of magazine horoscopes having any truth to them based upon massive statistical data...

Hank could only conclude it was the android equivalent of going stir crazy. What exactly he could do about it he didn't know. Hobbies were the obvious solution, but convincing Ethan to take up knitting or yoga seemed unlikely.

“Ever thought about reading?” he asked, picking the only sane thing that came to mind.

Ethan looked perplexed. “Reading?”

“Yeah, you know, books. Surely your big computer brain knows what they are.”

“I know what they are.”

So Hank collected some of the old paperbacks he had lying around the house, offering them up. Whether they were his taste or not Hank couldn't say, but it had to be better than whatever nonsense the android would come up with by himself.

“Here,” Hank said gruffly, “should give you something to do.”

Ethan accepted the pile, then his LED flickered yellow for a few moments. Then he handed them back. “I've read them.”

Hank stared at him. “Did you just... download the fucking books?”

“I found digital copies of all the texts you provided and downloaded them into my memory, yes,” Ethan supplied. “Is there something wrong?”

“I didn't... christ, I wanted you to _read_ them, not download, that was the whole point!”

Irritation was nipping at his heels. It was hard, though, hard when despite Hank's raised voice Ethan only looked troubled.

“I fail to see the difference.”

“It's... alright, look,” Hank tried again, taking a calming breath. “Reading is a kind of... experience, I guess. You read the words and you let it take you somewhere else, let yourself become a part of the story. You read a book to escape your own shitty life and you _feel_ it...”

“I still fail to-”

Hank lifted a hand, cutting him off. “I'm pretty sure I've got another book or two lying around, so I'm gonna go find them, and this time you're gonna read them properly. No downloads or any other android crap. Just reading. At a _human_ speed.”

Ethan still looked troubled. But after a brief pause he nodded. “Understood.”

It took him several hours to finish the books. When he was done, he came and presented them back to Hank, like a child who had finished their homework.

Hank tore his eyes away from the game on TV. “Well? What'd you think?” he asked.

“I'm sorry, Hank,” Ethan said, “I still cannot see the difference.”

Hank sighed, and maybe it was the disappointment on his face the spurred Ethan to speak again.

“I think perhaps you misunderstand how information works for us,” he said, his fingers tapping idly at his leg, “we have a far greater processing power than the human mind. When I download a text file I _do_ read it. I am able to analyze the information, and draw my own conclusions from it, in a matter of seconds. Reading at a human pace just feels... slow. Pointless.”

Ethan was still standing there, as if anxious for a response.

Hank glanced across at Connor for help. “Is that really how it works for you?”

Connor smiled back sheepishly. “How did you think I was able to read through case files so quickly?”

“Shit,” Hank muttered, “no wonder you're good at paperwork.”

He turned his attention back to Ethan, trying his best to look apologetic. “Sorry I made you waste your time. Guess I thought you were missing out on something, but maybe I just don't understand all this android stuff. If books aren't your thing that's fine, but you should think about getting a hobby some time, maybe try talking to Connor's Jericho buddies or something.”

Ethan tried. Hank was pretty damn sure he tried. All the evidence was there, the remnants of whatever interest the android had tried out most recently left abandoned or tidied away into the trash with clinical distaste. Nothing seemed to stick.

And Hank would be lying if he said it wasn't a little frustrating. Maybe he snapped a bit when he was in a foul mood already and he came home to the latest disaster and wondered what was so damn difficult about just finding something to occupy one’s self like a normal person.

He soon discovered that Ethan could be incredibly petty if he pleased. Connor was perfectly capable of pettiness of course, but Ethan excelled at it in a way that far outshone his predecessor.

His favorite response if Hank had been particularly gruff with him was to wait until Hank was settled on the couch to catch the Detroit Gears on television, and then as soon as the game got particularly tense to remotely change channels.

Hank would swivel to fix the android with a glare and Ethan would just blink back at him innocently. Didn't work quite as well with his steely grey-blue eyes, he couldn't pull off the puppy dog look, but he could look like a blank machine that didn't understand the accusation in Hank's expression. Hank wasn't stupid though.

The other trick he often pulled was mimicking notification sounds to get him to check his phone, or occasionally the doorbell (the way androids could do that was freaky on so many levels). Hank soon grew wise to this though and it lost its effectiveness.

Then Connor figured out they could also mimic cat noises and send Sumo into a frenzy of excitement, charging round the house in search of the intruding feline. They both seemed to find this a very fun game.

How anyone had thought the RK series was the height of advanced technology Hank didn't know, the pair of them were completely hopeless.

Whatever their squabbled though, both of them would always apologize.

Connor liked to do it in person because that was just the way he was, and him and Hank had a long history that the android never seemed to fear his response.

Ethan never liked to say anything directly, but he apologized in other ways. Sometimes a carefully placed post-it note, or a cooked breakfast. And Hank would give him a nod to let him know they were alright, and Ethan would nod back, and when Hank watched the TV again the channel would stay put.

Half way through the summer Connor brought home a fishtank. He set it up with perfect efficiency, and the thing was soon populated with a variety of brightly coloured tropical fish swimming about or pecking at the gravel, and Connor named every one of them. He loved to watch them. He also loved to talk about them, explaining the different species and their origins as if everyone were so fascinated by the creatures.

Hank didn't give a shit about them but he faked a passing interest for Connor's sake, cos there was something so endearing about the way his expression lit up.

He couldn't help but spare a sidelong glance at Ethan though.

He asked the android, later, if he was jealous, if he wanted something of his own. Ethan told him he was not. However, two days later a pot plant materialized on the kitchen windowsill. Hank didn't say anything. Ethan didn't either. But it was there.

Hank wished he could see what was going on in the android's head. Sometimes he seemed content, happy in their little house, another piece of the picture that just inexplicably belonged. Other times he was compelled by a restlessness none of them knew how to fix. Connor tried to help of course but sometimes Connor only appeared to make things worse.

He knew both RK units were fond of each other – Connor often referred to Ethan as his brother, and the other android seemed to return the sentiment, even if he never said it aloud. Love betweens siblings was a complex thing though. There were insecurities, envy, loyalty, admiration, affection and irritation, bitterness paired the warmth of kinship.

It was so very human, and so very painful to watch.

“Are you happy here?” Hank asked him one day, watching Ethan's face carefully.

The android took longer than usual to reply. “I don't know.”

That wasn't really what he'd wanted to hear.

Hank stuffed his hands into his pockets, wondering what the right approach was. He cleared his throat.

“Listen, uh... if you ever want to talk about stuff, you know you can talk to me, yeah?” he said. “Not saying I'm the best when it comes to emotional shit, probably the worst human for that kind of thing actually, but sometimes it's good to get stuff off your chest and I've always got time. Just food for thought.”

Ethan cocked his head to the side, a very faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, Hank. I appreciate the gesture.”

“I'm serious.”

“I know.”

But he never took him up on the offer.

Ethan's long disappearances became more frequent, and when Hank bothered to ask him he remained evasive. He didn't push the matter. Didn't want to find out what would happen if he did, and he supposed... he supposed it wasn't any of his business anyway. Ethan was a free man... android... _person_ , and he could do whatever the fuck he liked.

The situation seemed stable enough until one morning when Hank, swearing up a storm when he realized the time, pulled on his clothes and sculled his coffee before yelling for Connor as he made his way to the door, only to find the android in question standing in the lounge with Ethan.

Hank could see the LEDs on their temples flickering in synchrony which was enough to tell him they were having a conversation. At android speed, of course. They could share an hours worth of gossip about him in the time it took him to put his shoes on. He would have _liked_ to tell them there was no way they were allowed to do it in the house, but it felt too much like telling a kid they couldn't use their native language cos he couldn't understand it, even if that language was binary or whatever the hell they used. Hank could be an asshole, but there was some things he didn't want to mess with.

“Connor, what are you doing? We're late, we need to go,” he snapped, jerking his thumb toward the door.

Connor blinked, turning to face Hank. “I remember not so long ago the precinct would be luck to see you before noon.”

“Yeah well, things change. Now get a move on, you can carry on whatever this is later.”

Still, the android hesitated. “We are... having a disagreement.”

An argument. Hank felt like rolling his eyes. They were arguing. Sometimes they really were like brothers.

“Alright, well, we still don't have time,” Hank told him, a little softer. “If you need to clear anything up, make it snappy.”

Connor nodded. “Got it,” he said, before turning back to Ethan. Carefully he extended his hand, the synthetic skin flowing away to reveal the white plastic beneath. The other android mirrored the gesture.

“Woah woah woah, what's this now?” Hank demanded.

Ethan glanced over at him. When he spoke, he did so slowly, as if he were explaining things to a simpleton. “While we can exchange and process data wirelessly at a rate that far exceeds human speech, the chances of us coming to an agreement in the next minute through this method is low. If we synch, we will be able to exchange a more detailed perspective and assess the problem together.”

“It won't take long,” Connor assured him.

Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just get it over with.”

The two of them clasped hands, freezing for a moment as they stared unseeingly. Then they snapped into motion again as if broken from a spell, releasing each other and letting their skin smooth back over their hands.

“Is that it?” Hank asked incredulously, looking from one to the other.

“Yes,” Connor said, softly, “we have reached an understanding.”

“Well, alright then.”

He looked back at Ethan again, scrutinizing the android for a moment. He couldn't spot anything off about him, he didn't seem particularly distressed, but Ethan was always a little less open with his emotions.

“You all good, kid?” he asked, watching his face for any tell tale signs.

Ethan nodded, adjusting his cuffs. “I'm fine. I'm glad Connor and I could resolve this.”

Hank gave up. What the android didn't want to tell him was his own business, and so long as he wasn't in any danger of heightened stress of upset, then there was no point being nosey.

“Right, we're heading off then. Take Sumo for a walk if you can.”

Ethan seemed to find this agreeable, but as he shut the door behind him Hank couldn't help but feel as if maybe he should be doing more. Connor was silent on the walk to the car.

“You really sort an argument by holding hands?” Hank asked him. “You two agree now?”

“Yes,” Connor said, though he didn't sound entirely happy about it.

“Androids are weird,” Hank muttered, pulling the drivers side open and sinking into the seat.

Connor was still for a moment. “I think humans are pretty weird,” he said with a smile, and Hank snorted.

Android humor. Yeah, humans were an odd bunch, he wasn't about to deny it.

 

* * *

 

Two days later... two days later things reach their conclusion. Ethan was standing by the door waiting for him and Hank knew something was different.

There was a resolve to the way the android squared his shoulders, even if his eyes betrayed a hint of doubt, it was clear he had reached a decision.

Hank didn't say anything though. Didn't ask. He didn't want to be the first one to speak, to start this, so he let Ethan hover by the door until he finally realized Hank wasn't about to say a word.

“I've acquired a job and an apartment,” he said, plainly, stating facts. He paused for a moment, as if leaving room for Hank to comment. “I think I will be leaving.”

“Oh,” said Hank, cos he couldn't think of anything better.

They stood there for a moment, assessing one another.

“Does Connor know?” Hank asked.

“Yes, he's aware,” Ethan said. “He was... against the idea at first, but I think we were able to understand one another.”

So that was what they'd been arguing about. Should have been obvious it wasn't something small, he'd never known the pair of them to have such a disagreement before. Minor squabbles over who got to walk Sumo maybe, but nothing they had to synch - or mind meld, or _whatever_ the fuck it was – just to move passed.

“You don't have to leave, you know,” Hank tried, “if you don't want to. You're welcome here. Maybe I'm not the most welcoming kind of guy but there's always a place for you, and I don't want you leaving cos I never... cos I haven't-”

Ethan smiled. It was a small smile, but it wasn't creepy like the ones he'd used when he'd first joined them, his smiles these days always carried a faint whisper of warmth. They grew up so quick.

“It's alright,” the android assured him. “This is what I want. I'm grateful for your hospitality Hank, truly, and I think that overall I have enjoyed my time here... but it's not where I'm meant to be. I've given the topic much thought and I think, for myself, that my independence is an important part of my development.”

He waited again, and Hank knew he had to speak.

“If you're sure, kid. You'll always have a home here if you want it though. And you better damn well visit, I don't care how busy your new job keeps you, Connor's gonna mope like a child if he thinks you've forgotten him.”

“Of course.”

There was something caught in Hank's throat, something more he wanted to say. “Sumo will miss you.”

_I'll miss you._

He thought he caught a glint of understanding in the androids eyes. He hoped he it was there.

“And I'll miss him too,” Ethan said.

And so he was gone, taking with him all he owned – a collection of spare clothes and a pot plant – and Hank was left to contemplate the inexplicable way it stung.

Maybe he should have done things different... maybe if he'd been better at this sort of thing, known how to give Ethan whatever it was he felt he was missing...

Shit, he was _supposed_ to be Connor's problem. This wasn't supposed to matter to Hank.

He felt like having a strong drink, a craving that hadn't hit him in a long time. He didn't keep a steady supply of alcohol in the house anymore and driving out to Jimmy's bar to drown in his sorrows just seemed wrong.

He settled for a coffee, and tried to numb himself with the drone of the TV.

Nothing was forever. Humans left home all the time, it was normal. If Connor decided to leave he'd have to let him go too. Heck, he'd have had to wave Cole off to university one day if he hadn't... if...

He sighed, the desire for a shot of whiskey growing.

“You happy here?” he asked Connor later that day. “Ever think about moving out of this dump?”

Connor frowned, expression contemplative. It didn't seem he was pondering the question though, rather Hank himself, studying him in a way that made Hank acutely aware of the androids abilities to scan him. To read his heartbeat, to automatically detect signs of stress, to pull him apart in a way people never did. It made a lot of people nervous. It just ticked Hank off. Wasn't fair that Connor could read him like that and Hank was left trying to decipher exactly how the android felt given how hesitant he could be when it came to expressing himself.

But maybe it was fair. Connor still had trouble understanding the intricacies of human emotion, he'd had less than a years experience after all. Giving him a program to lend a hand wasn't such a bad idea.

“I see no reason to leave,” Connor said eventually, “I'm quite happy here with you and Sumo. I... can't promise that nothing will ever change, but I don't see how it could. This place is home for me.”

“That right?”

“Yes.”

“Huh,” Hank said, settling further down into his chair. “Guess I did something right.”

 

* * *

 

The mood the next day was different. Hank didn't mention Ethan, and nor did Connor. It almost felt as if they were both pretending he'd never existed, as if there wasn't a strange quiet hanging over their morning routine.

There were no new post-it notes waiting for Hank on the bathroom mirror. The little plant that had sat in the window was gone. Silly that things that weren't even there acted as reminders.

He pulled on his coat and skulled his coffee while it was still hot enough to scorch his throat, and watched as Connor filled up Sumo's bowl.

They had work, and maybe that was a good thing. Took his mind off other worries.

Connor was inspecting him again as they got into the car. He could practically see the androids mind ticking, and he knew, just _knew_ , that Connor was going to bring Ethan up and Hank didn't want to talk about it.

He knew Connor wouldn't blame him for the other androids departure, but Hank couldn't help a small guilty part of himself wonder if he would. Connor had seen Ethan as a brother, and Hank had started off just seeing him as a problem, and maybe if he hadn't he'd still have him here...

Connor opened his mouth to speak, and Hank reached for the radio, turning the volume all the way up. The car was filled with the blast of heavy metal screams and thrashing drum beats.

Connor's brows dipped slightly, a faint irritation visible that he made no attempt to hide. He did not reach to readjust the volume however.

By the time they reached the precinct Hank's ears were ringing, not that he'd ever admit it.

He gave a vague wave to the secretary and she let them through.

It was the human one today.

There was still an android one that worked some days. As far as Hank understood it, it was a part time thing for her now, and the rest of the android workers had found better things to do. Why she in particular had chosen to return he didn't know. Had to be something keeping her. Maybe he should ask sometimes, ask what she saw in this crappy job when she was suddenly free to do whatever she wanted, but Hank was never one to invest himself deeply in the lives of others.

He wandered toward his desk with a general lack of enthusiasm, a brewing headache, and the desire for something a little stronger than coffee, barely paying attention to his surroundings. It was with some shock then that he finally forced himself to focus, and found someone lingering by his desk.

Ethan was lingering by his desk.

Hank stared at him.

The android seemed cautious, his hands clasped behind his back and remaining where he stood, waiting for Hank to react.

Was something wrong? Had Ethan changed his mind, did he need help? Was he embarrassed to go back on his decision? Was he here for advice?

There were a lot of questions Hank wanted to ask, but they just got muddled up and he didn't know where to start.

Shaking himself, Hank finally managed to speak. “The fuck are you doing here?”

It sounded more accusing than he’d meant it too.

Ethan offered an almost sheepish smile. “I told you I got a job.”

Oh... _Oh_.

Hank was dumbfound. “Yeah, but... but...”

But he hadn't expected to walk in here and just find him at the station. Had felt like that goodbye the day before had a more permanent note to it, something that had sat wrong with him all the hours up till now. And he was fucking relieved, and angry, and pleased, and still _pissed_ , and he didn't know how to begin to express that. Ethan was still waiting.

Giving up, he turned to Connor. “You knew about this?”

The other android paused, but nodded. “Yes.”

“And _neither_ of you fuckers bothered to tell me?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Ethan said. His hands were still clasped behind his back, and his head was held high, but Hank had known him long enough to read the uncertainty in his stance. That, and the yellow LED at his temple.

Hank sighed, and let his anger drain away. Ethan didn't need that now. He was worried he'd messed up, worried this had been a mistake, worried he wasn't wanted, and there was no way Hank was going to let him go on thinking that. He fucked up a lot, but he wouldn’t fuck this up.

“Of course it's good to have you here,” he said, closing the remaining distance between them and pulling the android into a hug. “But you should have just _told_ me. Thought we wouldn't be seeing you for a while.”

Ethan faltered, not quite sure how to return the gesture, but Hank let him go quickly. The android appeared to collect himself. He straightened his shirt. “Noted. I always did intend to visit though, even if I had not been able to secure a job here.”

“I should hope so!”

“If he did not, I would have tracked him down,” Connor said in a matter-of-fact way, and Hank didn't know if it was supposed to be a subtle threat or if he was just reading too much into it. Connor was smiling though, and so was his twin, so he guessed it was okay.

The two of them seemed comfortable with one another, any remaining tension from their earlier argument dissipated.

A sudden thought struck him, and Hank laughed. The pair of them looked at him in confusion. Their expressions were perfect mirrors of each other, and Hank only laughed harder.

“Christ!” he said, unable to stop his grin. “Reed's gonna lose his shit when he realizes there's two of you!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work but I really wanted to write some family dynamics I guess. I imagine Ethan fills his apartment with pot plants and cats, and spends his days solving crimes and demonstrating exactly how petty he can be to Gavin.


End file.
